


The Scientist

by octothorpetopus



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode: s04e24 Amplification, First Kiss, Hurt Spencer Reid, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Derek Morgan, Song: The Scientist (Coldplay), Worried Derek Morgan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:22:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24728161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octothorpetopus/pseuds/octothorpetopus
Summary: When Spencer is infected with anthrax, Derek isn’t about to let him go without a fight.
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Comments: 4
Kudos: 324





	The Scientist

At first, Derek couldn’t see Spencer through the glass sliding door. His heart leapt into his throat as he scanned the lab. If he wasn’t here, where was he? If he was dead already, would they have gotten him out so quickly? Then he looked down and saw Spencer sitting with his back against the wall, his left side against the door, just out of Derek’s line of sight. He sat down on the other side of the door, and if not for that quarter-inch of glass, he would have fallen right into Spencer. 

“Hey, kid.” Spencer’s head snapped up, as if he hadn’t seen Derek coming. He blinked as if waking up from a very long nap, and shook his head as if manually clearing his thoughts. For a moment, his eyes flitted over Derek’s head to the plastic tent in which a dozen or so government scientists were trying to find a way to get him out. He didn’t respond, just smiled a tired little half-smile. “How’re you doing?” Spencer shrugged.

“You know. Dying.” Derek laughed, but only because he couldn’t really picture it. He actually couldn’t picture Spencer dying, how stupid was that?

“You’re not dying, kid. You found the inhaler.”

“Yeah, and we still don’t know that that was the cure. He could just have asthma.” As if to prove his point, Spencer coughed. The harsh, raspy sound hit Derek’s ears and shoved his optimism even further down into the growing black pit in his stomach.

“You’re gonna be fine, Reid.”

“Yeah? When did you become an expert in biochemistry?”

“Since I started hanging out with you.” Spencer grinned weakly and leaned his head against the glass. Once again, Derek couldn’t help but realize that if the glass weren’t there, his head would have fallen onto Derek’s shoulder. “You know, it’s funny. I never thought about all the things I wish I’d done until now. I don’t really like looking back, I don’t usually see the point, but now-” he sighed. “Now, I wish I’d gone out for drinks with Emily and JJ when they’d asked. I wish I’d gone to all those hockey games you asked me to. I wish I’d said yes when Rossi invited me to dinner. I never thought I’d be one of those people who had a ton of regrets when they died, but now, I guess-”

“You guess nothing, because you’re not dying.” Derek didn’t say anything about all the things he’d regret if Spencer died. The things he wished he’d said, the things he wished he’d done. “Look, Spencer, I gotta tell you something.” Hesitating, he pressed one palm against the door. Goosebumps prickled his arms as his hand touched the frigid glass, but he didn’t shiver. Spencer held up one slightly hand and put it right where Derek’s was on the other side of the glass. His hand was thinner and bonier, and Derek had a feeling that if he could hold it, it would be freezing despite the heat.

“What’s that?” Spencer murmured, barely audible through the glass and under the din of everything happening around them.

“It’s just… with all this talk about what you regret… well, if you die, which you won’t, I’ll have some regrets of my own.”

“Morgan, whatever you’re trying to say, just say it. I’m too tired to profile you right now.”

“Well…” Derek tapped his forefinger against Spencer’s through the door. “If you die, I’ll never get to tell you how nice I think your hair always looks, even when it was long. Or how I get butterflies in my stomach when you fall asleep on my shoulder on plane rides home. How much I like to listen to you ramble about whatever it is you’re on at the moment. I’ll never get to tell you how much I love you, Spencer.” His voice cracked, but he kept on. “As a friend, and… well, I love you, kid. And hey, I don’t expect you to say anything back; especially not now. You don’t owe me anything. But I don’t want any regrets, and I want you to know you shouldn’t regret anything. Not with me. I’ll be here as long as you are, kid, and when they get you out of here, I’ll be with you. I’m with you to the end of the line, Spencer, whether that’s now or in fifty years. We’re ride or die, right?” Derek thought back to the night they’d taken the train to Atlantic City and gotten drunk tattoos together.  _ Ride or die.  _ That’s what they said. He rolled his sleeve up to show Spencer, to remind him. Spencer smiled weakly and put his hand over his collarbone, where Derek knew his only tattoo was hidden.

“I really wish I could get out of here now.” His voice was far too raspy to be his own, and it broke Derek’s heart. 

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because I’d give anything to kiss you right now.” He put his forehead, pale and sweat-covered as it was, against the glass, and Derek matched it, willing himself not to cry.

“You will, kid. I promise you, you’ll get out of there and I’ll be right with you.”

“I never knew. Why didn’t you say anything earlier? Did you have to wait until I was on my deathbed?”

“First of all, you’re not on your deathbed, so shut up about that. Second, I thought I was obvious, and third, how was I supposed to know you felt the same way? You’re not exactly forthcoming, Spencer.”

“Yeah. Maybe that one is on me.”

“No, it’s not. You have nothing to blame yourself for. Not now, not ever. You’ll get out of here, and you’ll see.”

“Derek.” Spencer spoke deliberately now as his eyes fixed earnestly on Derek. “I’m serious. If I don’t get out of here-”

“You will.”

“If I don’t. I left a message for my mom, but someone still needs to go see her. And… if I don’t see the others again, tell them… tell them there’s no other way I’d rather have gone. And that it’s not anyone’s fault but mine, so they shouldn’t blame themselves. Especially Hotch and JJ, because they will. And you. It’s none of your faults. Make sure they bury me in Nevada. This is my home, but I want my mom to be able to come see me. And, uh… I’ll miss you. All of you.” It was as if a dam broke inside him, because as soon as the last word was out of Spencer’s mouth, he broke down in sobs, his thin shoulders shaking. Derek instinctively moved to put an arm around him, to comfort him, but smashed his hand against the glass door. He was helpless to watch as Spencer buried his face in his hands, trying to suppress his tears but failing miserably. “I don’t want to die, Derek,” he cried. “I don’t want to die.”

“I know, kid, I know,” Derek murmured, willing the door between them to dissolve so he could wrap Spencer in his arms and hold him. It didn’t. “We’re gonna get through this, you and me. We have to. We have to,” he repeated, over and over and over until Spencer finally calmed down, and someone came over to tell him he had to get back so they could start the extraction process. 

“I’ll see you in a minute, kid,” he said, pressing his fingertips to his lips and then to the glass one last time. 

“Derek!” Spencer called out. “My mom. Promise me you’ll make sure she’s okay.”

“You’ll do it yourself, now-”

“Derek.  _ Promise me.” _

“...I promise.” Derek let out a shaky breath and stepped back.  _ “And I love you,”  _ he added mentally. He wished he’d said it out loud, but Dr. Kimura was already helping Spencer into a hazmat suit of his own.  _ Come on, kid. You’ve survived so much. This won’t- this can’t be the thing that gets you.  _ But as the doctors led him over to the heavily secured plastic tent, Spencer looked as if he could barely walk. Derek turned away. He couldn’t watch. He had come to the realization that whatever would happen was already going to happen, and he wasn’t going to get a say. That’s life. Derek was not an avid churchgoer, and to his knowledge, Spencer had never been, but with his back turned to the operation behind him, he closed his eyes, and began to pray.

The hospital was quiet, clean, and cold, just like Spencer. Derek sat by his bedside, feet kicked up on the edge of the hospital bed, hands folded together and resting on his chest over his heart. 

He was going to be okay, that was what the doctors thought. He’d be out of commission for a few days, and any respiratory illness for a little while could have potentially fatal repercussions, but for the most part, he would recover. 

That didn’t stop Derek’s heart from pounding while he waited for Spencer to wake up. He had already read the four very old Food Network magazines from the waiting room, cleared out the photo cache on his phone, called his mother, and played 17 games of sudoku by the time Spencer finally cleared his throat.

“Hi,” was all he said, the rasp in his voice no longer striking fear into Derek’s heart.

“Hi.” He pulled the chair closer so he could lean against the bed. “How are you?”

“Eh.” Spencer coughed. “I’m not dying, so…”

“I told you.” With considerable effort, Spencer lifted his hand and held it out to Derek, who got it immediately. He pressed his palm against Spencer’s, a thrill jolting through him at the skin-on-skin contact now that there was no door between them. “I told you.”

“In my defense, I’m the one with three PhDs, so if anyone knows anything…” he trailed off, his face making it clear he realized it didn’t matter. Derek bit his lip and squeezed Spencer’s hand.

“I think we should talk.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Do you… you don’t remember?”

“What? That you love me?” Derek flinched at how easily he said it. “Derek.” With his other hand, still pale and clammy but strong enough, Spencer reached up to cup Derek’s face. “What’s there to talk about? It’s love. Serotonin, dopamine, oxytocin. I could talk about the science behind it for hours, but that wouldn’t matter to you, because we don’t feel chemicals. We feel love.”  _ We. We feel love.  _ Derek was overwhelmed by the urge to kiss Spencer, and realized at once that he could. There was nothing now, no door, real or metaphorical. So he did, he kissed Spencer. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined their first kiss would take place in a hospital, but it didn’t matter. Spencer was freezing to the touch, but through his thin hospital gown, Derek could feel his heartbeat. Spencer pushed his lips into Derek’s insistently, pulling him down with his hand on the back of his neck. 

“Spence, I- oh!” Derek and Spencer flew apart at the sound of JJ’s voice. JJ, along with Penelope, Emily, Hotch, and Rossi stood in the doorway, every single one of them with their eyes wide and mouths open in shock. Spencer blushed a deep red and Derek covered his face in his hands. JJ cleared her throat. “Spence, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah. I made you cookies.” Penelope held up her tupperware and the team filed into the room, smiling and laughing but without a word about the kiss. Derek and Spencer shared a wordless glance, suppressing smiles. Quietly, subtly, they linked hands. Chemical or feeling, love had beat death today, and in Derek Morgan’s book, that was a win.


End file.
